Holden Goes to Therapy
by ForbalaTheGreen
Summary: post-book. pretty self-explanatory. i wrote this for an english class, no edits made. see if you can figure out where the name pinderschlauss came from . language


**I wrote this for an English assignment and I got an A!! So I decided to share it with you^^**

**Enjoy!! (sorry, I'm a little hyper today)**

**Forbala**

Holden Goes to Therapy

I looked at the door and sighed. I just don't get why I haveta see a goddamn shrink. There's nothin' wrong with me! For Chrissake.

Well, I didn't see as there was much else for me to do but go inside and see the guy, so I opened the door and walked up to the secretary.

"I'm here to see Dr. Pinderschlauss. My name's Holden Caulfield."

"Yes, take a seat and he'll be right with you," the woman said, not even looking up at me. Goddamn phony.

So I went and sat in a chair on the wall and looked at the other folks in the waiting room (there were multiple docs in the building). There was this one lady that, I swear, looked like she was about to start shootin' ev'rybody in the room. I scooted my chair over an inch.

I watched the clock ticking on the wall until finally I was called to see the shrink. I went on in and sat in an armchair. The Doc was sitting in the armchair across from me. He was a tall guy who smelt like cigarettes and beer and he wore a nice tweed suit and had on smart glasses. When I saddown he took off the glasses (phony) and said, "Hello, Holden, I'm doctor Alexander Pinderschlauss."

"Nice to meet you, sir."

"And you. So Holden, do you know why you're here?"

"Because the court says I need counseling."

"Why do you need counseling?"

"I don't really need counseling, you know. I'm perfectly sane."

"Just because you're sane doesn't mean you don't need counseling."

I didn't respond.

"So Holden, can you tell me about anything traumatic that happened in your childhood? A car accident, a death in the family?"

"My brother Allie died a few years ago."

"I see. Were the two of you close?"

"Yeah, pretty close." I picked up a baseball off the desk and started tossing it in the air.

"How did you feel about his death?"

I wondered if I should really tell this phony everything, then decided I may as well. What could it hurt? "I was real upset. I punched out all the windows in our garage with just my fist. I was in the hospital because of that on the day of Allie's funeral."

Dr. P nodded his head, said, "I see," and scribbled onto a notepad.

"How do you feel about his death now, Holden?"

"I don't know. Sad, I guess. I talk to him sometimes still."

"I see." That was really getting on my nerves. I wished he wouldn't say that. It was really annoying.

Dr. P went on like that for a while, and I spoke only when I had to. He was a real phony, that guy, he really made me mad. I started to tune him out pretty soon. I thought about Jane instead. I missed Jane. I oughtta call her when I get done with Dr. "I See". I probably wouldn't call her. What if she asked what I was up to, as she was bound to? I couldn't say I was seeing a shrink. That couldn't go over well. I shouldn't call her. But, boy, I missed her. I kept thinkin' about the way her hair smelled and how she always kept her kings in the back row in checkers. I'd like to play checkers with her again. Boy, that'd be nice. I should call her, I really should. I really wanted to hear her voice. She has such a nice voice, Jane. Real soft and feminine. Golly, how I missed her. I really should call—.

"Holden!" Dr. P interrupted my thoughts about Jane. Goddamn phony.

"Yeah?"

"Were you listening to a word I said?"

"Well…maybe not so much."

"I said, I want you to come again, same time next week."

"But, like I said, I really don't need a shrink, Doc," I protested. This was such a phony thing to have to do. I really hated Dr. P. He was such a phony.

"That's not how it seems to me, Holden. Same time next week. Make an appointment with my secretary." I sighed and nodded. God, I hated that secretary. She was such a phony.

"I'll see you later, then, Holden. If you need to talk between now and then, Linda can give you my phone number."

"Yeah, thanks, Doc," I mumbled, shuffling out the door and up to Linda the Phony Secretary's desk. I asked her for Dr. P's phone number and made an appointment with her. Then I left.

I really shouldn't even go next week. It's not like I needed counseling anyway. I'm not crazy. I'm really not. I'm as sane as they get, honest to God. I really just shouldn't show up. I oughtta skip it. But that would be such a phony thing to do. I should go, really, even if it is pointless.

Thinking about therapy was making me restless. I started kickin' stones around as I walked back.

I oughtta call Jane, I really should.


End file.
